Greg's Pranks
by Anolle
Summary: It's a slow day at work, so Greg decides they need a little more humor in the workplace. But things get hard for him when he begins a case, and has to put humor on hold. [Unfinished]
1. Double Prank

_**Author's Note:**_ 1) I do not own CSI: or it's characters. But wouldn't that be awesome if I did?

2) I am probably going to only write humor CSI stuff, as it is easier, and funner

to do. Plus, it'll keep me on track and update more often as well.

3) Sorry this chapter isn't very long. I'll make it longer in the future.

* * *

It was a warm spring night, and Gred Sanders was feeling very happy and energetic. More than usual, anyway. It was a very slow night on the job, so Greg decided it was time for some fun. He glanced anxiously around for his first 'victim' and stopped when he saw the office door that read _'Supervisor Gil Grissom.'_ He grinned, thinking this would be a great place to exhert his energy. 

"Grissom...Griss?" Greg whispered, slowly creeping over and shaking the slumped-over boss. "Grissom, wake up. You're drooling on your paperwork." Still, his boss just groaned and continued snoring. "GRISSOM!" Greg screamed, watching him snort and look up.

"Huh? What time is it?" He said half dazed.

"It's almost 5 a.m. And uhh...Grissom..."

"What is it Greg?" He said wearily, forcing the words through a deep yawn.

"You have some post-its stuck on your head." He chuckled, not mentioning the red streaks Grissom recieved sleeping on his books, and papers on his desk. Also, he had a bunch of pen scribbles on his face from knocking over his pens.

"Oh." He reached for his head and pulled off the post-it, and resticking them on the books. "Greg?"

"Yes boss?"

"Quit looking at me."

"You got it." There was a long pause as Greg stood there.

"Greg, get out please."

With that, he walked out of Grissoms office. He didn't get to pull a prank on him, but from the face markings and the post-its, he already was a victim. He pushed the door open, and heared Sara scream and fall on the floor. Greg scooted out and saw all her papers and evidence bags splattered on the ground. She was rubbing her head and glaring up at Greg.

"You tell anyone about this, and we'll be investigating _your_ crime scene." She stood up, angrily, shoving the disorganized papers back in the folder, then grabbing the evidence bags.

"Sara, you missed a page." He said childishly, pointing to a page that flew in Grissom's office.

"Whatever." She groaned, turning red as she felt Grissom watching her pick up the paper. As she hunched over to grab it, Greg saw an oppertunity to get Grissom and Sara. Walking right behind Sara, he pushed her fully into Grissoms office.

"SARA LIKES GRISSOM!" He screamed in the office, then sprinting down the hall. By the time Sara stood up and hid her blushing face from Grissom, Greg was gone.

Grissom stared at her, embarressed and wishing he was still asleep, and this was all a dream. Until he heard what Sara said next...

"Just wait Greg, I'm good at playing childish games, and greater at getting revenge." She muttered between clenched teeth, then walking out, leaving Grissom in a great deal of shock, and curiousity.


	2. Beware of Toilets

**Author Notes: **Wow, thank you all so much for your nice reviews! As request,

i'm trying on making the chapters longer. Anyway, hope you like it.

And a disclaimer: I don't own anything CSI, but if I could, I would.

* * *

Greg stopped near the mens bathroom, panting from the run. His mouth was parched, so he pushed open the door and turned on the sink. One by one, he scooped up the cold water in his hands and drank it, thinking about his previous prank. "I wonder who will be next." 

As if fate heard, he heard Nick talking to Warrick outside. "Good job on that last case. What are you going to do now?" Warrick Brown asked Nick Stokes.

"I don't know dude. Probably write the report from the Herring case..." The rest Greg didn't hear, because he had the perfect idea for the next prank.

He ran to each of the stalls, and pulled off the toilet paper and shoved them in the bottom of the trashcan. He knew Nick always went to the last one in the row. But missing toilet paper wasn't enough. Greg started digging through his pockets. There where some papers, old gum wrappers, and what's _this_?

He smirked at what he saw. In his hand he had super glue, and a chemical adhesive compound that he got from the lab to, oddly enough, glue down pencils in Grissom's office before the discovery he was asleep in his office. This would work perfectly.

He pushed open the door of the last stall, and began to put the superglue around the toilet lid. Then grabing the chemical bottle, he pulled of the top and lightly poured it around the lid, watching it combined with the superglue and immediatly start to dry.

Nick pushed open the door and shouted, "Bye Warrick. See you later." He looked into the mirror and combed his hair though once, not seeing Greg slide under the last stall into the second to last one. He picked at his teeth, and started washing his face.

"Hurry up!" Greg whispered, worried that the glue would dry by the time Nick decided to go. Greg also hoped Nick was in there just to pee, that way he would have to sit on the toilet. He heard Nick walk to the stall next to him, and lock the door. Greg held his breath and pulled his legs up with him on the toilet, so Nick wouldn't see him.

A couple minutes went by with, in Greg's opinion, some horrible bathroom sounds, before he heard a scream in the stall. It made Greg jump, but he remained quiet.

"F." Nick said. "Whose idea was _this_?" He mummbled, trying hardly to pull himself off the toilet seat. The act of him sitting up and forcibly being forced down caused rather odd suction sounds. Greg tried his hardest not to laugh.

"HELP!" Nick screamed, sweating from the humiliation and realizing that he would have to get someone to come help him. He pulled out his phone from the pants around his ankles, and dialed Warricks number.

"This is Warrick." He heard from the other end. He paused, wondering whether or not to do this. "Hello?" Warrick asked again.

"Hi War. It's Nick. Umm, could you go into the bathroom for a second? And bring anything that will dissolve superglue?"

There was a long pause and a laugh. "Alright Nick, what did you get yourself into _this_ time?"

"Some jerk put superglue all over the toilet seat. And I sat on it." He lowered his head in embarrasement, knowing this would defiantly get around the office.

"I'll be right there Nick." Warrick said, trying hard to sound serious.

Greg needed to get out before Warrick decided to come in. He sat up and pushed open the door slowly, but it squeeked loudly. Hearing Nick scream, "Who's there?" Greg ran out of the bathroom, and snuck around the corner just in time to see Warrick walking down the hall, adhesive remover in his hand.


	3. Drunken Warrick

**Author Notes:** I hope you like this chapter! Never wrote about drunk people before...so yeah.

Sorry if it still short. It's just that the next chapter is soooo long.

What a clue for the next chapter? Greg has to stop pranking to solve a crime.

**Disclamer: **I still don't own CSI: but I still wish I did.

* * *

Two hours had passed since Greg left the bathroom, glueing Nice to the toilet. He had to take some time and calm himself from laughing, so nobody in the lab would suspect his evil doing. 

In those hours he though of a great, devious prank against his new victim, Warrick. Although it would take time to pull it off, the "end result" would be great. But two situations would have to take place for it to work: one, Warrick had to be sleeping, or disracted. And two, Warrick must not see him, or not aware it was him.

He sighed, realizing the rest of the pranks would have to wait until tomarrow night, because this oppertunity was too good to pass up. Plus, everyone's shift was about to end.

Greg grabbed his "supplies" he needed, and ran tot he lockers, where Warrick would probably be at this time. As he walked down the hall, he was to distracted thinking how it was luck he brought these "supplies" todya, to notice Sara walking down the hall glaring at him.

Finally, he reached the locker area and saw Warrick sitting on the bench, tieing his sneakers. Looking up, he nodded and said, "What's up Greg?" He proceeded to put on his left shoe.

"Oh, nothing much. Warrick, you doing anything after you leave?" Greg said, praying he wasn't.

"No man, having anything planned?" He replied, now standing up.

"Nope. I was wondering if you wanted to come over, or go to a bar or something?" _Oh god,_ he thought, _I sound really gay._

"Sure man. Let's go out. I'm tired of sitting here, thinking about Nick's butt."

"HUH?"

"No, not like that Greg! I meant why Nick got himself glued to the toilet seat..."

"I know you meant that. Still, that was an odd way to say it." Greg said, grabbing his coat from his own locker.

"Let's go." Greg said, internally celebrating that so far, things where going perfectly as planned.

Warrick nodded and headed out the door with Greg. They waved to the receptionist and opened the heavy doors. Outside, it was snowing, but just a slight amount. Greg looked at Warrick. "I can only have one or two drinks. I'm going to pull a double tomarrow at work." He said, not wanting to get drunk and mess up his plan.

"Aww, 'ya sure? I don't want to be the only one having fun." He said, hopping into the car.

"I'm sure. I'll just be the driver."

After an hour of Warrick drinking, he was definalty not sober anymore. Greg only had a small glass, he was not much of a drinker. Greg was very suprised how Warrick got when he drank. He was one of those rude, sassy drunks.

* * *

After an hour of breaking up fights, he let Warrick drink a shot of Vodka and told him to call it quits. 

"You don't pause to burp tell me what to do!" He snapped at Greg, licking the inside of his cup. But when he was done, he staggered out of the bar, and pucked in the bush.

Greg winced, but helped Warrick into the car. After some _'Don't touch me' _and _'I don't need a mom'_ Warrick passed out in the passenger seat. Greg got into the drivers side and drove to a small empty road.

* * *

Greg walked proudly in the doors, and walked to the lounge. But, he stopped when he heard Catherine scream down the hall. He rushed in the direction, noticing the scream near the men's bathroom. 

"What is it Catherine?" Greg said, looking at her shocked face, biting her lip.

"It's Warrick...He's...He's BALD!" She said quietly, Greg hearing the small laugh come from her.


	4. Murder at Desert Palm

**Author Note:** This one is a LOT more serious, to mix humor with a case, to show all aspects of the beautiful Greg. Plus, this'll help me make the story longer, and get people hooked. So keep your eye our for humor and horror!

* * *

Greg smiled at Catherine as she told him about Warrick being bald. He nodded occasionally, focusing on what to do with her. He heard her say, "Warrick went drinking last night, from what he told me, but he said he think he shaved his own hair off when he was drunk." God, did that make Greg happy.

But his happiness paused when Grissom walked up to them and after a moment of him glaring at Greg, said "Catherine, I need you and Gred to do this case. We just got this call in with a 4-11 of a dead women found behind a dumpster outside Desert Palm."

Greg nodded, thinking hard on what to do with Catherine. _What does she fear? Not doing a good job? Lindsey being hurt?_ He thought again onthe last one. _No, that would be too extreme._ Maybe a dark message left in her house?

He liked that one. It would work too. Recently, she had given him a copy of her house key to use to check up on Lindsey when she was running late on a complex case. He'd assumed, after her not asking for it back, that he'd was unverbally told to hold on it for future problems.

So they ran back to grab their kits and a coat, and proceeded outside. The wind and snow had picked up more since last night at the bar, and the visibility was terrible.

"The van can handle it Greg." Catherine said, almost reading Greg's thoughts. "The longer we stall, the more evidence is being washed away."

After a half an hour, which usually only took fifteen minutes, they arrived at Desert Palm Hospital. The polic car, to their right, lights were on. After some squinting, Greg saw the cop on the radio, and also pointing to his right, signaling where the body was.

Catherine pulled up a little more, and stopped about 30 feet hort so she wouldn't run over possible forensic evidence. Greg opened the door, the cold harsh winds smacking him in the face. He tightened his coat, anxious to get this over with so he could go to secretly to Catherine's house.

They put on snow shoes with plastic around it, and waddled their way t the body. Greg was shocked at the amount of blood surrounding the body. Catherine shivered at put her kit down.

In front of them was a middle-aged women faced down in the snow. She had nothing on but a slue solid hospital gown, and one slipper. Her blond hair was tangled, and the bottoms were soaked in snow and blood. There was blood all around her, making it appear as if she bled enough to make her hallow.

"Greg, she didn't bleed _that_ much. The fresh blood was warm, melting the snow and diluting the blood."

"Oh." He replied. _Duh! How come I didn't think of that? How obvious! And how come she always knows what i'm thinking!_

"Greg, catch!" She said, throwing the lab's digital camera. "Take pictures of that side, and any pivit in the snow near you. Then toss it back when I say so."

He immediatly began taking pictures all around him. He zoomed in on the body and took some good shots. Then he noticed something. "Catherine, did she have an I.D. on her?"

"Yes. Her name is Janie Herthrow. Why?" She questioned.

"She has a hospital wristband on that says Emily Heart. DOB 3/11/86."

Catherine lowered her brow in confusion. "This women's I.D. said thirty, not nineteen. Take another picture of it, and cut it off." She instructed.

He did what was told, andslipped the blood soaked bracelet into the bag. He loked back down at the wrist. "Hey Cath? I believe I know how she died!" Catherine looked over at him, and walked slowly through the snow to his side.

"There is a deep cut on her wrist. Possible suicide?" Greg asked rhetorically.

"Yeah. Go into the hospital and interview. I have things under control out here." She reassured him.

Greg went into Desert Palm, letting the heated air embrace him. He took off the hood to his coat, letting his hair drip-dry. He took off his snow shoes as well, and replaced them with black shoes. He walked to the entrance nurse and showed his badge/I.D. "Hi, i'm Greg from the crime lab. Who discovered the body?"

"Our housekeeper, Janis Besely. She's in the chair over there." She pointed to a petite woman, crouched over onteh chair. She looked to be mid-forties, with dark ash blond hair pulled in a bun. She was wearing a white uniform, the edges of her pants soaked with water and blood.

"Hello Janis, I'm Greg from the Crime Lab. Can you tell me what happened?" He said, sitting on the chair next to her, and pulling out a notepad.

"Well, i'm not sure what happened." She said in a small, weak voice. "I was talking out the garbage from the ICU rooms, and I saw her laying there. I rushed over to her, felt her jugular, but no pulse. I was quite panicked, and I knew there was no hope in _that_ weather." She said, turning sidways and looking outside. "So I ran back here and told security. Haven't been out since."

Greg nodded, taking notes. "Alright, i'm going to need a shoe impression, if you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind." She said, watching Greg roll the ink on the bottoms of her shoe.

"Step on the papers." Greg said. He put them in the kit and thanked her. As he walked back to the nurse, he saw a cop sit next to her to fill out a witness statement.

"Now, _who_ is Jame Herthrow?" He asked holding up the evidence bad with the hospital bracelet, "and _why_ is she wearing Emily Heart's band?"


End file.
